


who is in control

by honeymoonlight



Series: imagine a world like that [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts Second Year, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Angst, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Canon Rewrite, Hufflepuff Neville Longbottom, Hufflepuff!Neville, M/M, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Ravenclaw!Hermione, Slow Burn, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin!Harry, Some angst, no one is gonna die i don't play like that, quidditch will be played finally, slowest of slow burns, they are kids it has to be slow burn but it’s undertones are drarry, ya feel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23305696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeymoonlight/pseuds/honeymoonlight
Summary: Harry Potter is entering into his second year of his Hogwarts education. But, of course, nothing is ever as simple as just going to school to learn. This year brings new questions, and new mysteries: why is there a house elf hell-bent on keeping him from returning to school? What is causing the teachers to panic? Why did Dumbledore hire Gilderoy Lockhart? And, more importantly, why is Draco Malfoy ignoring him?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Theodore Nott, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: imagine a world like that [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674970
Comments: 31
Kudos: 169





	1. birthdays and broomsticks

**Author's Note:**

> title from halsey's control. which is fitting. you'll see why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, it's me  
> i was wondering if after this little bit of time you'd like to read another fic.
> 
> did you know that i wrote probably equal amounts of important content as JKR for the first fic in less than half the words? that's disconcerting. what the hell did she include in there. (i'm aware she was writing canon but still)

Harry’s face hurt from smiling.

It had been a great day, possibly the best day, and Harry was still floating on the euphoria.

It was his birthday.

Yes, Harry realized that everyone found their birthday to be exciting; it’s meant to be your day, where people celebrate you entering your next year of life.

He was surrounded by people he loved, those who cared for him and supported him.

His parents laughed in the fading sunlight, James with an arm slung around Lily’s shoulders. His mother’s hair was falling slowly from her ponytail, and James’s glasses kept slipping down his nose in the heat.

Sirius and Remus were sitting under a large umbrella, with Sirius donning a large, dark pair of sunglasses. He was more mellow under the harsh, British sun, at least today. A few more of his parents’ friends were littered in their yard, talking and laughing and contributing to the heightened mirth in the air. Harry thought for a moment he may be able to grab the happiness right out of the air.

His friends were there too. Neville and Ron were both tossing Bertie Bott’s flavored beans into the air and trying to catch them in their mouths, while Hermione watched, half in amusement and half in disgust.

Theo had written to Harry a few days before, regretfully—at least, that’s how Harry read it—letting him know that although he would have “definitely considered” attending the celebration, he and his family were already on vacation in Spain, and he would take a tan over sipping butterbeer with Gryffindors. He sent this, along with a parcel, containing a new Slytherin-green tie, which he said was meant to make Harry’s wardrobe “less eye-burning.” The parcel also contained new riding gloves.

Theo must’ve Seen what his parents were getting him, then, because when Harry’s birthday actually rolled around, he laughed when he saw that his parents had purchased him a new broom.

Everything was perfect. Almost.

Because something—no, someone—was missing.

Harry had presented Draco with a birthday present over a month ago, before they had all left for summer holidays. Although Harry had sent him a few letters, they were only met with stilted replies, until he stopped receiving anything at all.

It worried Harry. This was the longest time he’d gone without speaking to Draco, even through letters, since he’d met the boy. Even at the beginning of first year, when he was more of a pain than a friend, he spoke with the blonde boy on a regular basis. It made Harry feel _off_. Off balance, like something was missing. Not enough to completely take away his ability to function day-to-day, it wasn’t like missing a limb. It was more like he was missing his favorite book, or his favorite jumper. He could get another, sure, and that may get him through the day. But it didn’t fill the void it left behind.

So Harry had a good day, he had a great birthday. That much was unaffected.

Later that night, though, when everyone had gone, and it was just him, sitting in his room, staring at the ceiling, listening to his parents talk and chuckle in the kitchen while they tidied up, Harry felt it. He felt the effects of not having Draco there, or having talked to the boy at all.

 _He’s busy,_ Harry thought, though even his thoughts were unconvinced. _He’s probably caught up in whatever painfully posh people do for holidays._

There was another voice in Harry’s head, though. One that was not nearly as nice.

 _Or maybe he’s gotten tired of you,_ it said. _Maybe he’s found some other friends. Better ones._

Harry didn’t particularly like that voice. He elected to ignore it.

“You aren’t going back on that broom until your room is properly clean,” Lily sighed, “Harry, you’ve only got a week left before you go back to Hogwarts. Have you even begun packing?”

Harry hadn’t, but he didn’t really want to admit it.

“Just five more minutes, mum, I want to nail this turn,” Harry pleaded, “or else I’ll never get on the quidditch team this year. Don’t you want to cheer on your own son, rather than a bunch of strangers when you visit?”

Lily looked at him, unaffected.

She sighed after staring at Harry’s pleading face for a period, before saying, “ _Five_ minutes, I mean it,” and going back into the house.

Harry loved flying, loved the weightless feeling of dives, the wind whipping around him as he darted this way and that. It brought him so much excitement, that this year, he could finally try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team. It had consumed him, as he tried to prepare himself. He knew it was likely that he would be up against good competition, during tryouts, and he wanted to be sure he had _more_ ; he had to try his hardest to earn a spot.

Harry dove, rushing toward the ground, and got just close enough to the ground to make his fingers tingle and his heart gave a jolt, before bringing the front of his broom up, coming out of the dive in a wild spin. Harry let out a soft _whoop_ as he twirled, before righting himself. He dove and turned a few more times, before landing. He put his broom away in the shed, not wanting to risk having his mother return outside to chastise him.

Harry stopped in the kitchen as he walked inside, stealing a scone from the counter, laughing as his mother hit his shoulder with a towel in reprimand. Harry walked up the stairs to his room, trying not to spill _too_ many crumbs on his way there. His trunk lay under his windowsill, and he went straight toward it, with the intention of opening it to survey all he needed. His mind was running a mental list, remembering what he needed and didn’t from last term. His letter listing his necessary books was due soon as well, and Harry was sure that would bulk up the contents of his trunk considerably. Harry was so enraptured in his own thoughts, that it was only when he was reaching for the quidditch book on his bedside table that he noticed a lump on his bed that had not been there this morning, and he as he surveyed it, he noticed the lump looking back at him.

Then it spoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dobby is kind of essential to this series. did you think i wouldn't include him?


	2. dobby's warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the truth is; writing dobby is like pulling teeth. so i plagurized most of the beginning of this (albeit changing a few words here and there-- we can't have him trying not to alert the dursleys if they're not there, now can we?)

“Harry Potter!” said the lump, now standing. Harry immediately realized what it was. “So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir… such an honor it is…”

“Er-thanks,” Harry said, glad his bedroom door was closed, and his mother was downstairs, singing softly to some song on the radio.

The house elf in front of him was clad in a pillowcase, which Harry was sure was at one point white, but was now yellowing, with patches and stains coloring it more. It had been a little while since Harry had come in contact with a house-elf in an actual home, though he knew it was rather common amongst wizarding families, especially those who were wealthier, and usually pureblood. Sirius and Remus even had one, though theirs wasn’t clad in rags like this one—and he didn’t tend to follow directions very well, causing the two men to rarely give him tasks. Kreacher was much different than this elf, though. Dobby, Harry was assuming, was much more passive, and from the way he was ringing his hands as he looked around, Harry could tell the creature was nervous.

Harry could relate.

“Dobby,” Harry began, “that’s your name, right?”

The creature nodded, and Harry took that as a sign to continue.

“I don’t want to be rude, but what exactly are you doing here?” The elf looked panicked for a moment and Harry rushed to add, “Not that I’m not pleased to meet you, of course. It’s no problem, that you’re here,” _I think_ , he added in his brain, “but, er, is there any particular reason? That you’re here.”

“Oh, yes, sir,” said Dobby earnestly. “Dobby has come to tell you, sir . . . it is difficult, sir . . . Dobby wonders where to begin. . . .”

“Sit down,” said Harry politely, on reflex.

To his horror, the elf burst into tears — very noisy tears.

“S-sit down!” he wailed. “Never . . . never ever . . .”

“Sorry!” Harry said quickly, “I didn’t mean to offend you,”

“Offend Dobby!” choked the elf. “Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard — like an equal —”

Harry, trying to say “Shh!” and look comforting at the same time, ushered Dobby back onto the bed where he sat hiccoughing. At last he managed to control himself and sat with his great eyes fixed on Harry in an expression of watery adoration.

“You can’t have met many decent wizards,” said Harry, trying to cheer him up.

Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he leapt up and started banging his head furiously on the window, shouting, “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!”

“Don’t—Dobby, it’s alright,” Harry said, slightly panicked again, “Dobby, you don’t need to do that.”

“Dobby had to punish himself, sir,” said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. “Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir. . . .”

“Your family?” Harry prompted, hoping to find out why the elf was here.

“The wizard family Dobby serves, sir. . . . Dobby is a house-elf — bound to serve one house and one family forever. . . .”

“Do they know you’re here?” asked Harry curiously.

“Dobby’s master, no, sir, Dobby’s master doesn’t know Dobby has come to see Harry Potter, no,” Dobby said, wringing his hands, and glancing around wildly. “Dobby is sure, if Dobby’s master knew Dobby was here, Dobby would have to shut his ears in the oven…”

Harry winced, visualizing the elf slamming his ears in an oven. It wasn’t a particularly pretty picture.

“Dobby, is there a reason you’re here, then?” Harry asked, searching the elf for signs of harm, aside from the obvious. Something, that may have caused his appearance on Harry’s bed. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Almost at once, Harry wished he hadn’t spoken. Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude.

“Please,” Harry said, a little frantically. The crying was beginning to make him supremely uncomfortable. “Please stop crying, Dobby,”

“Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby . . . Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew. . . .”

Harry, who was feeling distinctly hot in the face, said, “Whatever you’ve heard about my greatness is a load of rubbish. I’m not even top of my year at Hogwarts; that’s Hermione, she’s the brightest, even of a Ravenclaw. I’ve got nothing special about me,”

“Harry Potter is humble and modest,” said Dobby, ignoring Harry for the most part.

“Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later. . . . Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts.”

There was a silence broken only by the chink of his mother moving pots and pans around in the kitchen.

“What?” Harry asked, still trying to process. “But I’ve got to go back — term starts on September first. I need to go back to Hogwarts.”

“No, no, no,” squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. “Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger.”

Harry thought for a moment, squeaky voice aside, this elf sounded a lot like Theodore Nott. Without all of the sarcasm.

“Dobby, wait,” Harry held up his hands to try to stop the elf pacing, “I’m not in any danger. I’m sure you’re confused—you’ve misunderstood something, somehow. If anything, if there is something going on, Hogwarts is the safest place for me,”

“There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year,” whispered Dobby, stopping his pacing but starting to tremble. “Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!”

“What terrible things?” said Harry at once. “Who’s plotting them?”

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall.

“All right!” cried Harry, grabbing the elf’s arm to stop him. “You can’t tell me. I understand. But why are you _warning_ me?”

The elf looked panicked, and just like that, with a sharp _pop_ , he was gone.

Harry stared, blankly, at the spot where the elf had been sitting. If he hadn’t known about house-elves, he was sure he wouldn’t believe his own memory.

A knock at the door made him jump, but it was just his mother, peeking her head into the room.

“Dinner in five minutes, Harry,” she said, glancing around the room. “Do attempt to pack soon, love.”

Harry sighed.

When Harry’s Hogwarts list arrived, his father took one look at the contents, and started cackling.

Harry grabbed the letter from his father, who was still clutching his midsection and cackling.

_SECOND YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:_

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Holidays with Hags_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Travels with Trolls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Voyages with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Wanderings with Werewolves_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

 _Year with the Yeti_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

“Who’s Gilderoy Lockhart?” was the first question out of Harry’s mouth.

“Gilderoy Lockhart?” His mother called from the kitchen, “That absolute rubbish human being? Why is his name being uttered in my home?”

“And she says I sound like Sirius,” James muttered, before saying, louder, “Class book list, love. Lockhart’s entire bibliography’s on there.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Lily came rushing out of the kitchen, and grabbed the paper from Harry. “Must’ve been impossible for him to sell this crap to regular folks, so he’s forcing children to purchase them. That’s rich.”

“Who’s Gilderoy Lockhart?” Harry asked again, more intrigued than ever.

“Only the most insufferable git to walk the Earth,” Lily said, ignoring James’ raised finger. “He’s written books about his many traipses with dark creatures, but they’re obviously fake. No one who uses more hair product than a sixth-year at the Yule Ball could single-handedly take down a troll.”

James was biting his lip, obviously trying to hold back more laughter.

“Apparently,” James said, “the famous Gilderoy Lockhart is Hogwarts teaching staff material. He’s been appointed to be the new DADA professor, Lils,”

Lily looked appalled.

“Dumbledore’s finally lost his mind.”

It had been a long time since Harry had seen this many Weasleys in one afternoon.

Harry and his parents had gone out to Diagon Alley in search of his schoolbooks, and though Lily Potter kept up a steady string of insults all the way to the store, they were able to get all of Harry’s books without much difficulty. Harry saw red hair at almost every glance, though he didn’t see Ron around. While James went to pay, and Lily went off in search of a new novel, Harry walked around the bookshop, scanning titles. He walked through shelves, fingers tapping across spines as he looked. He saw many families out for the same reason as his; out shopping for Hogwarts supplies, for the first time, or for the seventh. Harry smiled at some wide-eyed students who looked like Muggle-borns, if their parents dumbstruck looks suggested.

Harry was just reaching the back of the store, when he overheard a voice that was very familiar.

“…everyone thinks he’s so _lovely,_ wonderful _Potter_ with his _glasses_ and stupid, _crooked_ ties—"

"You have told me this at least a dozen times already,” said Mr. Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son.

Harry quickly hid, face flushing. He couldn’t believe this.

“Oi! Harry!”

Harry panicked, but whirled around to see the Weasley twins. Fred and George wore smiles as they approached, and Harry couldn’t help but mirror the expression.

“Hi,” Harry said, “are you all out shopping?”

“Mum’s over at the table getting Lockhart to sign our textbooks. He’s a bloody loon, but mum’s obsessed with him,” one of the twins answered. Harry could still never tell.

“Ron’s around here somewhere, with his little _girlfriend_ ,” the other said, and they both elbowed one another and laughed.

 _Girlfriend?_ Harry wondered.

He didn’t have to wonder for long, however, because he soon found Ron next to an already-engrossed Hermione. He could only tell from her hair; her nose was so deeply shoved in a book.

“’lo Harry,” Ron greeted, and Harry waved.

“What’s she reading?” Harry asked, motioning towards Hermione.

“One of Lockhart’s books,” Ron said, rolling his eyes, “she’s been at it since we got here.”

Ron had apparently run into Hermione and her parents in Diagon Alley, and Arthur and Molly Weasley had graciously offered to help the two muggle parents navigate a little more smoothly.

“My mum’s throwing a fit,” Harry said, “she says Lockhart’s a fraud.”

Hermione finally looked up, eyes wide. “Of course he’s not a fraud, Harry. How could he have lied about all of these things? There were _witnesses_.”

Harry let it go.

He didn’t, however, let go what had happened. What he had heard.

Harry was more than used to Draco Malfoy spending his time boasting about his own successes, and he’d even heard him mock other students, students who Draco saw as lesser, unworthy of attention.

But he’d never heard Draco talk like that about _him_.

First, he’d ignored Harry’s owls, like the entire last term hadn’t happened, like they hadn’t been through so much together. Now, he was speaking about Harry like he was nothing.

While he walked from shop to shop, either with his parents or with any combination of Weasleys, Harry couldn’t push Draco from his thoughts, and he definitely couldn’t vanish the hurt that was now settling in his stomach.

Though he wished that he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if anyone is confused as to why draco is like this, i have a plan so stick with me. also that quote, i had to modify but it's SO FUNNY in canon. ooc draco isn't what i'm going for, just be patient and everything will make more sense.


	3. malfunctioning barriers & malfunctioning malfoys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short delay y'all--spring quarter has officially begun for me, and i spent two days driving four hours back to campus, and moving from one dorm to another. i only JUST got everything organized a couple of days ago.... so that's been great. updates will either be super quick or really slow, who knows.  
> but enough about me.  
> here's the fic.

The night before Harry went back to Hogwarts wasn’t as joyful as he had been expecting.

Harry couldn’t shake what he’d overheard in Diagon Alley, what he’d heard _Draco_ say, about _him_.

It was making it impossible to focus on anything.

Harry knew, at some point, he had managed to pack up his trunk, glad for lightening spells, since it was full of Lockhart’s books. He vaguely remembered having wrapped his broom carefully, placing it in his trunk, then surrounding it by robes just to be sure it wouldn’t get damaged. He sat through a dinner that was so normal it almost made Harry angry. It wasn’t fair, in his mind, for the world to keep spinning as usual while he was having a crisis like this.

It didn’t feel right to sit and butter bread at the table with his parents while he felt like his whole life was changing.

He’d gone through a lot last term, and the entire time, he’d had Draco Malfoy by his side.

What was Harry supposed to do without him?

Harry picked at his peas, stabbing a few of them with his fork. He knew his parents could probably sense something was wrong, though they didn’t make comments.

Harry didn’t offer any explanations.

As he was readying for bed, he sat at the windowsill, watching Hedwig swoop around before he put her back in her cage for the night. Chin on the palm of his hand, he stared out at the stars, feeling sorry for himself.

If Draco was here, he’d call Harry needlessly dramatic.

 _“Oh, Potter,”_ Draco would say, a smile on his face, _“are you auditioning for one of those muggle dramas? You’re sure selling the whole, ‘miserable and pathetic’ thing.”_

Thinking of Draco hurt.

Harry barely noticed his father coming into the room, until he was sat on Harry’s bed, a parcel in his lap. Harry watched him, wondering what was in the box.

“You know, while I was at Hogwarts, I had some of the best times of my life.” James said. “I met lifelong friends, I learned a lot, and, of course, I got into a bit of trouble.”

James was grinning, and Harry gave him a small smile in return.

“But I wouldn’t have been able to do any of that without something my father gave me, when I was just about your age.” James handed Harry the parcel and waited.

Harry ripped at the wrapping, before lifting the top off the box. He stared at the contents.

In his lap, lay a silky, silvery fabric. Harry took it out of the box, letting it slip and slide as he replaced the box with the fabric. He laid it on his lap, studying it, feeling his father’s gaze on him.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said uncertainly, staring at the cloth. Was it a blanket? A sheet? A curtain?

“Put it on,” James said, smiling knowingly. Harry stared at him, and James grabbed the cloth. He pulled Harry to his feet and draped it over his shoulder. Harry looked down, thinking he would just see a particularly thin cloak over his shoulder.

Harry looked down, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“What,” He gasped, and James let out a chuckle.

“I’m sure you’ll put it to good use,” James said, winking.

Harry looked back down, where his body _should_ be, and still couldn’t believe it. It was gone, even though he could still feel his fingers and toes, he couldn’t _see_ them.

“How did you—” Harry tried to speak, but James just put a finger to his lips.

“All in good time, kid.”

“Thanks,” Harry said on an exhale. “Thanks.”

“From one Potter to another,” James said, smile never leaving his face. “Get some rest, you’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Harry was so jittery the next morning, knowing that he had the cloak in his trunk.

An _invisibility cloak_. In _his trunk_.

He couldn’t wait to tell Ron.

Walking through King’s Cross, he felt like he had this grand secret. He had something, that no one else did.

The Potters were met with a mass of red-hair coming through like a wave, and Harry was met by every single Weasley.

“Hullo, Harry,” Ron said, sidling up next to him.

“Ron,” Harry smiled at the other boy.

Harry noticed there was a smaller body next to Ron, and Harry craned his neck a little, and gave her a small smile.

“Hi, Ginny,” he said, “excited for your first year?”

Ginny Weasley immediately turned as red as her hair, and let out a small squeak, before rushing off to walk by her mother.

Ron rolled his eyes.

“Was it something I said?” Harry wondered, and Ron snorted.

“No, mate, it’s just the _Potter effect_.” Ron said, waving his hands in the air for emphasis.

“The Potter effect?” Harry asked, but he didn’t get to complete his sentence, because he was too busy crashing to the floor of the station.

“Bloody hell, Harry!” Ron said, rushing to help him put his trunk back on a cart. “What happened?”

Harry dusted off his cloak. “I don’t know, the passage wouldn’t let me through,”

Ron put his hands on the wall, and it didn’t budge.

They were locked out of Platform 9 ¾.

Harry looked around, for anyone familiar, and saw no one. Not one other Weasley, not a single Potter.

“Harry,” Ron asked, looking deathly pale. “what are we going to do?”

Harry ran to the wall where the passage was meant to be, and tried to push his hands on it, knowing it was completely useless. He knew he couldn’t yell and scream, though that was all he wanted to do. There were too many muggles around—he couldn’t pull out his wand, even if he wouldn’t get immediately struck down for underaged magic.

“I don’t know,” Harry said, feeling helpless down to his core.

He looked around again, scanning the crowded station, and knew there wasn’t anything he could do, at least, not until his parents came back out.

“Wait,” Harry said, “if we can’t get in, does that mean that my parents can’t get back out? That _no one_ can get back out?”

“We’re doomed,” Ron said, looking like he was either going to vomit or faint.

Harry heard a humming, then a few pops. He looked at the wall again, and couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The wall looked like it was shifting, it’s surface was wavy and textured, not at all like the stone it had been before, but he was sure it looked mostly the same as it had, at least from a distance.

Harry immediately grabbed his trolley, and pushed it toward the wall again, trying to brace for an impact, but none came.

He and Ron were standing on Platform 9 ¾.

“Harry!” His mother rushed to his side, “We were so worried! The wall wasn’t working, what _happened_ —”

“Lily, love, we’ll figure it out, but the train’s about to leave, we’ve got to get them on board,” James rushed to say, and without another word, three Potters and a Weasley ran toward the train, and rushed to get everything on board.

Once Harry and Ron made it, they walked around the train, trying to find anyone who they knew.

“What a way to start the term,” Ron muttered.

“At least you’ve got a good story for the Feast,” Harry said, gazing into compartment after compartment.

Ron shrugged in agreement, and Harry finally spotted Hermione’s bushy hair.

“Where have you been?” She asked, before they’d even fully entered the train.

“The barrier was broken, or something,” Ron said, taking a seat next to her. “It almost didn’t let us through. Mr. and Mrs. Potter had to reopen it, thank Merlin for them, or we’d probably have been left behind!”

“That’s _terrible_ ,” Hermione said, and her face showed she was being earnest. Harry sat across from the two, leaning against the window.

“How was your summer, Harry,” Hermione asked him, “I never got the chance to ask when we saw you at Diagon Alley.”

“Fine,” Harry said, “you just saw me for my birthday, Hermione. That was probably the most exciting thing that happened the whole holiday.”

“Well, I read almost all of our schoolbooks,” Hermione said, trying to tuck her hair behind her ears, and only mostly succeeding. “Did you know that Gilderoy Lockhart defeated a vampire, and it could only eat lettuce after? How positively interesting,”

She said that last bit with a dreamy look on her face, and Harry already desperately hoped for a subject change.

“Hermione,” Harry said, “could you tell me again how they get the roof in the Great Hall to reflect the sky outside? I’ve forgotten.”

Hermione looked disappointed, not in the subject change, but in Harry’s lack of memory of the subject. Or, at least, him saying he had forgotten. That got her going for a few minutes, with Harry ahh-ing and humming in all the right spots. Anything was better than hearing about _Gilderoy bloody Lockhart_. He could almost hear his mother’s voice.

Harry let a part of his brain drift for a moment, wondering what had happened back on the platform. What had gone wrong with the barrier? Why in the world had it been closed?

“Potter,” a voice said from the door, “are you wearing a _Chudley Cannons_ shirt?”

Harry opened his eyes, and saw Theodore Nott standing in the doorway, with a look of complete disgust on his face.

“Yes, Theo,” Harry said, biting back a smirk. “don’t you know they are the most dominate quidditch team in the league? It’s common knowledge, you should really get with the times.”

Theo looked at him blankly. “I don’t like it when you sound like me. Only _I_ get to sound like me.”

“What do you want, Nott?” Ron asked, and Theo went to sit next to Harry.

“Only to ruin your train ride with my presence, Weasley,” He said simply, “I live to inconvenience you.”

Harry snorted.

“What’s the real reason?” Ron asked, looking like he was concentrating very hard at not rising to Theo’s bait.

“Do you not trust me, Ronald?” Theo insisted, “I always tell the truth. And nothing but the truth.”

Ron rolled his eyes, and sat back in his seat, crossing his arms.

“Theo,” Harry nudged him with his foot, “what are you doing here?”

“Am I so unwanted?” Theo asked incredulously, “Am I not allowed to visit my dear, _dear_ , friend in his compartment? You wound me so, Potter,”

“Now you sound like Draco,” Harry’s smile turned pained after a moment, realizing what he’d said.

“Ah, our Slytherin prince. Why, Harry, you don’t seem to be too keen on our little snake. Care to share?”

Harry glared at Theo, who kept a cold smile on his face. Harry was seriously considering never talking to Theodore Nott again.

“Well, if you don’t care to share your thoughts, I guess I have the floor.” Theo shrugged. “I came here to simply ask if you’d seen our lovely Malfoy heir anywhere.”

“We haven’t.” Harry said through clenched teeth.

“Oh, pity, he owes me money.”

Harry looked at Theo in confusion, before the compartment opened again.

 _Speak of the devil, and he shall appear_.

“Oh, Draco, we were just talking about you. Have a seat, old chap,” Theo said, and Draco looked at him coldly.

“We’re not staying,” Draco said, his voice icy. It was only then that Harry noticed the two large figures flanking him.

“What are you doing with them?” Harry couldn’t stop himself from asking.

Draco ignored him.

“Theo, I’ve been looking around the whole train for you, you dolt.” Draco spat, and Harry almost flinched with how cold he sounded. “I have your book.”

“I thought you said he owed you money,” Ron mumbled, while Theo stood to grab the book being handed to him.

“This book is worth more than your house, Weasley,” Theo said. “Why aren’t you staying with us, Draco? You don’t have any other friends.”

Draco turned pink, but put on a new sneer. “Shut your mouth, Nott, you don’t know anything about my life.”

“I know enough,” Theo said, “and I’m sure I know more than those two goons behind you. Say, Crabbe, Goyle, have you managed to find your brains yet, or are they still missing in action?”

Goyle took a step forward, but was stopped by a raised hand by Malfoy.

“Funny,” Malfoy said, but his tone had no humor, “so witty, Nott. Too bad that seems to be all you’re good for.”

Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and it was almost like there was another boy in the compartment, one that Harry had never met, standing in Draco’s skin.

“Theo’s worth ten of you, Malfoy.” Harry said, coming to stand quickly at Theo’s side. “What are you still doing here, if we’re so below you, then?”

“We were just leaving,” Draco said, finally looking at Harry. “Crabbe, Goyle, get out of my way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i PROMISE i have a plan with draco. i promise promise promise. just stick with me y'all.


	4. quidditch tryouts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter lengths are getting longer and i feel more like i'm writing a proper book. also!!! i have an entire outline now for this fic (and most of the others) and it's making the whole writing process so much easier. so i'm really vibing with the writing lol.
> 
> TO ANYONE WHO CARES: i've been ugly crying over check, please! all week and i can't believe it's over. if anyone hasn't read it, it's a webcomic (free to read!) about a college hockey player who was a former figure skater. his name is bitty and he bakes. there's sports! baking! cute love! it's worth it.  
> i can't believe i'm advertising check, please! on my fic but i need everyone to read it bc it's THAT GOOD.  
> ok bye  
> (also i just posted a check, please! fic if you're interested after reading the comic.)

“What was his problem?” Ron asked, as soon as their compartment was free of the three boys. “I mean, Malfoy’s always been a git, but he was even worse today.”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “he wouldn’t talk to me all summer. He stopped returning my owls.”

“I only saw him once,” Theo said, “our parents got together at the Malfoy villa in Paris right at the end of our Spain holiday. He wasn’t nearly as bad as that. Or else I’d never have lent him my book.”

“I saw him in the bookstore in Diagon Alley,” Hermione said, and then looked grim. “He tore a page out of a book. A book! The Malfoys have enough money to buy an entire bookstore, and he steals a page out of a book.”

Ron tried to hide an eye roll, but Hermione caught him, and dug an elbow into his side.

“I saw him too,” Harry said, “but he wasn’t taking a page out of a book.”

“What was he doing?” Ron asked.

“It wasn’t what he was doing, it was what he said.” Harry looked out of the window. “He was mocking me. I don’t think he knew I was there, but he was complaining about me to his father. Rather loudly.”

Harry could still hear it.

_…everyone thinks he’s so_ lovely _, wonderful_ Potter _with his_ glasses _and stupid,_ crooked _ties—_

“What’d he say, Harry?” Ron asked again.

“He was complaining about people liking me. He was insulting my glasses, and how I wear my ties,” Harry said.

“That’s not exactly the wringing I was expecting, I’m almost disappointed, Potter,” Theo said, and Harry shot him another glare.

“Draco has never talked about me like that.” Harry said, “Something’s up with him.”

“Perhaps,” Theo said, “he suffered a head injury over the summer hols.”

“Doing what?” Ron questioned, and Theo shrugged.

“Being a git is a hard job, perhaps he pulled a muscle.”

“Pulled a muscle?” Hermione asked, looking unconvinced. “In his brain?”

“The entire brain is a muscle, Granger, I would have thought you’d know that.”

“Can we please stop talking about this?” Harry said, exasperated. “I’m going to nap before we get to Hogwarts.”

Harry closed his eyes, but not before seeing Theo mouth _pulled a muscle_ at the two other students.

Harry clapped politely, as the sorting ceremony started up.

He was sat at the Slytherin table, sandwiched between Theo and Blaise Zabini. Draco had come in just moments before McGonagall had begun calling names, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, and arm-in-arm with a girl, who as they approached, Harry saw to be Pansy Parkinson.

Harry looked away.

“Stop looking like a kicked puppy, Potter,” Theo whispered, “no one likes overt sadness. It really brings down the room.”

Harry tried to ignore him as he clapped for “Lovegood, Luna!” being sorted into Ravenclaw.

“Zabini,” Theo leaned over Harry to address the other boy, “tell me about your summer hols. Everyone I know is being depressing.”

Harry tuned out, just going through the motions of clapping for the first years, while Blaise talked to Theo. Harry thought he heard something about Blaise’s mother and a foreign dignitary, but he couldn’t be sure.

Harry tuned back into reality just in time to let out a whoop, and shoot a smile at a pale Ginny Weasley, who joined her family at the Gryffindor table.

The feast began shortly after, and Harry ate mechanically, head still too far away to truly enjoy the Welcoming Feast. He vaguely remembered making it back to his dormitory, and Harry blinked a few times when he walked into his room and saw Theo sitting on his bed, watching Draco gathering his things.

“What are you doing?” Harry blurted out.

“What does it look like, Potter?” Draco said unkindly, “I didn’t think you were stupid enough to be unable to recognize someone packing.”

Harry felt his face flush.

“Draco here is swapping rooms with Blaise,” Theo said, and Harry blinked a few more times.

“What,” Harry began, then amended to, “Why?”

“Because I can, Potter.” Draco said, then cast a lightening charm on his trunk, and shoved Harry out of the doorway, his trunk floating behind him.

“What is happening?” Harry whispered, and Theo shrugged.

“He’s a Malfoy,” he said, “they’re like mental breakdowns waiting to happen. Trust me, I’m related to quite a few of them.”

Harry went to sit on his own bed, a helpless feeling washing over him. Why was everything _changing_?

“Well, don’t you two look happy to see me.”

Harry glanced at Blaise, and noticed his smile looked a little tight around the edges.

“How’d he convince you to switch rooms, Zabini?” Theo asked.

“Hey, I’d do almost anything not to hear those brutes snore for another year.” Blaise said, then smirked, “plus, the fifty galleons didn’t hurt.”

Theo let out a whistle. “Well, I guess he really didn’t want to share with us, then. You know, I almost feel offended.”

“It’s his loss,” Blaise said. “I’m sure there’s no _way_ you two can make even a fraction of the noise those two brutes are capable of.”

Harry fell back onto his bed with a groan. “No offense, Blaise, I think you’re alright, mate,” he said, “but this whole thing is seriously messing with me. What in Merlin could cause Draco to be such a prat?”

“You mean, more than usual?” Theo interjected, and Harry shot him a look.

“For all of his pettiness, and childishness, and lack of ability to _shut the hell up_ ,” Harry said, “he’s never been like this before. It’s like he’s a whole different person. Who goes home for summer hols and comes back completely unrecognizable?”

The other two boys stared at the floor.

“Do you think he’s been possessed?” Blaise asked, and Theo snorted.

“Not in the traditional way,” he said, “he’s still Draco. I mean, when I saw him in France, he was a little more stilted, but it was nothing like this. Something happened between then and now.”

“What could have caused this?” Harry asked.

No one had an answer.

“Well,” Theo said after an extended period of silence, “this night has been thoroughly depressing. I’m headed to bed.”

Theo pulled the curtains tight around his bed, and that was that.

“Hey, Potter,” Blaise said, and Harry glanced at him. “are you going to the quidditch tryouts on Friday?”

Harry managed a small smile, and a nod.

“Wicked,” he said, then retreated to his own bed.

“Sleep requires _quiet_ ,” Harry heard Theo say from behind his curtains, and he rolled his eyes.

Dramatic sod.

The first week of term passed in a blur, and before Harry knew it, he was standing out on the quidditch pitch, broom in hand, and jittery with excitement.

He stood side-by-side with Blaise, who was keeping up a good stream of mindless chit-chat. Harry was grateful for the other boy.

Theo was sitting on the stands, a big tome in his lap—it was the only way Harry could convince him to come to tryouts.

_“Why in the world would I want to go? When I say I like quidditch, Potter, I mean_ actual _quidditch. Not a bunch of amateurs.”_

_“You could just sit and watch us, come on, Theo,” Harry pleaded, and the boy snorted._

_“Only if I can bring a book. Merlin knows I’ll need something entertaining.”_

He sat there now, looking up every once in a while, shielding his eyes from the sun, and looking displeased. His face turned even more, and Harry noticed he was watching something. Harry followed his eyeline, and saw Draco Malfoy walking up to where the other students were waiting, with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. Harry frowned.

He tried to focus again on the pitch, seeing everything from down here was somehow different. He knew, only a few minutes from now, he would be flying. He could barely wait.

“Alright, listen up,” a voice called, and Harry saw three boys, clad in green, walking toward the group standing on the sidelines. “We’re looking for four of you to take over positions on this team. You’re all going to get on your brooms, and fly around, take some shots if you’re interested in being a chaser, or hit some bludgers if you’re looking to be a beater. Anyone trying out for the seeker position—” Harry perked up, “just fly around, and we’ll pick out a few of you to go head to head with the snitch. Go!”

Harry mounted his broom, rising into the air. Harry watched as Blaise grabbed a quaffle and started taking shots. Crabbe and Goyle picked up bats and started smacking the bludgers across the pitch to one another. Harry rose higher and higher, then let himself fall, spinning as he rushed toward the ground. He did a few laps around the perimeter of the pitch, doing some spins and sharp turns, trying to be quick, but neat with his flying. Trying to impress, but not so much that he would look like a show-off. At least not yet.

Other Slytherins flew by him, as he went around. At one point, Harry dropped down toward the stands, and tried for a moment to grab Theo’s book from him as he flew by. The other boy shot a hex at him, and Harry cackled as he dodged the spell.

After a little while more, the captain, Marcus Flint, called them all back down.

“Potter, Malfoy, keep your brooms,” he said, after announcing that their new chaser was Blaise Zabini, with Crabb and Goyle getting to be the new beaters. The rest of the students went toward the broom cabinet, heads hanging in disappointment.

“We only need one seeker,” Flint said, looking at Harry and Draco, who were standing about as far away from one another without making it too obvious. “You two will be competing for the spot. First one to catch the snitch, makes the team.”

He held out his fist, then opened it.

The snitch shot into the sky.

Harry quickly got back on his broom, but Draco was slightly faster, and Harry took off a few moments after him.

They darted through the air, but Harry had lost sight of the snitch, and it seemed the same was true of Draco.

Harry gazed around, blinking, as he tried not to be blinded by the light during his search.

He turned his gaze on Draco after a moment, though he tried to avoid it. He was like a magnet, and Harry’s eyes kept finding him.

Draco looked tense, his posture rigid and radiating stress. He looked nothing like the prickly, stuck-up Slytherin Harry was used to seeing.

The other boy must’ve felt eyes on him, and his eyes met Harry. His face remained cold, and Harry was half tempted to fly over there and shake him.

He was imagining that, when he saw the snitch fly right behind Draco Malfoy.

Harry tried to figure out how he might fly there without alerting the other boy, who was _right there_ , and he decided to make a slow, careful circle. Draco went back to scanning the sky, but Harry kept his eyes firmly on the golden snitch, which was hovering, still, behind the other Slytherin. As Harry was closing in, though, Draco sought him out again, looking for Harry in the sky, and spotted the snitch.

He reached up his hand, and tried to grab it, but it shot back into motion.

Harry dove, shortly followed by Draco, and the both of them were on the chase. Harry tried to keep up with the tiny gold snitch, as it zipped and zoomed and evaded all attempts to capture it.

At one point, he felt a shove to his arm, and realized that Draco had tried to push him off his broom. Harry returned it, before speeding up a bit more.

The snitch was in his reach, but Draco was right alongside him, and they both stretched, their fingertips just barely missing it. The snitch took a sharp right, and Harry grabbed for it, at the same time Draco did, and he felt the cold, metal snitch settle in his palm, with Draco’s hand only closing over Harry’s.

The other boy let go, like he’d been shocked, and take a sharp turn toward the ground. Harry held up the snitch, to claps from the other players. When he returned to the ground, he was pronounced the new Slytherin seeker, and he smiled, feeling so much joy, which was only slightly dampened by the sight of Draco Malfoy, putting his broom back, shoulders hanging.

Harry’s smile faltered, but he quickly corrected it, thanking the other boys.

“Well, Potter,” Theo said, when Harry walked his way, “looks like the people are right. You _are_ a Golden Boy.”

Harry snorted, but he stowed his broom, and walked with his friend, back to the common room, and tried his hardest to push any thoughts of Draco Malfoy from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't write a harry that doesn't play quidditch. it just doesn't exist. get ready for later chapters of me having to plagiarize the real book bc i can't write people playing sports, fictional or not, unless that sport is hockey (which is the only sport i follow), and even with that, i struggle. sorry my guys.


	5. enemies of the heir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello,  
> it's me.  
> and my nose keeps fucking bleeding in this goddamn quarantine.  
> (no but seriously. these bloody noses need to stop i am sick of them. i had one in the middle of my zoom tutoring session. blood is pouring from my nose like there's no tomorrow. sorry for the TMI but someone needs to hear it. i woke up at 3am and felt like i was drowning and i WAS but it wasn't water it was BLOOD and it bled for OVER AN HOUR and got EVERYWHERE okay i'm done)
> 
> i've been dying bc of homework for the past few weeks but this is a long chapter so i hope this makes up for me being MIA. hope you enjoy!
> 
> also i am aware that the chamber is supposed to be open BEFORE the quidditch match but i don't care so it didn't go that way. i'm rewriting canon i can do whatever i want.

Harry thought that, perhaps, Gilderoy Lockhart was the dumbest human he had ever met.

Not that he wasn’t bright, Harry was sure that he had some amount of intelligence, no matter how deep it was buried beneath aggressively white teeth and hair product. No, what made Gilderoy Lockhart the dumbest person Harry had met, was simply because he seemed to have no idea what was happening outside of the barriers of his skin.

He let Cornish pixies terrorize them the first day of class, and was seemingly unfazed by the danger, and was content to allow the students to take charge and recapture the rather vicious little things.

 _He’s completely off his rocker,_ Harry wrote in his weekly letter to his parents. _Dumbledore must have another reason for hiring him, because it’s surely not due to his skill._

Ron had almost singed off Harry’s eyebrows when they were gathering pixies— _Fred and George hit me with a bludger during quidditch tryouts. Broke my wand almost in half, and I_ still _didn’t get on the team_ —and Theo had spent more time freeing Harry’s pixies than gathering his own.

“Potter,” Theo said, after he let the third pixie go free, “I’m trying to get them to lift Lockhart up by his hair; don’t ruin it.”

“Well, I think he’s charming,” Hermione said, after Ron and Harry regaled her with the tales of Defense class.

“Of course, _you_ haven’t been accosted by pixies because of him,” Ron muttered, and Harry sneezed, and a cloud of pixie dust rose into the air.

“Ronald, I’m sure he knew exactly what he was doing,” Hermione argued, and Ron gestured to his multi-colored robes.

“I’m covered in pixie dust, Hermione! Those bloody things kept trying to pull my ears off!”

It was true—the pixies had taken a liking to the Gryffindor.

Hermione just waved off his complaints, and Harry tried to look down at his parchment, and will his brain to write.

He glanced around the library, and saw Draco sitting at a table, quill scratching on parchment as he did homework. The other Slytherin was without his goons, and he looked less icy and distant as he worked.

Harry looked back to the table when the other boy glanced up, and he pretended to be very busy in order to make it seem as though he was definitely _not_ watching Draco Malfoy.

Harry poked at his forehead with his quill, trying to jab his brain into kickstarting.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Hermione asked him softly, and Harry paused his quill tapping.

“I’m fine,” he said, and Hermione looked at his face, then the quill, then his face again.

“How is your potions essay going?”

“Fine,” Harry repeated, putting his arms on his parchment so she couldn’t see it was blank. “it’s coming along just fine.”

Ron snorted, and Harry shot him a look.

Harry saw Draco rise from his seat, and he made an excuse about finding a book for his paper in order to follow the other boy into the rows of books. He tried to be quiet, and keep from drawing attention to himself, as he made sure to keep the other Slytherin in sight. Draco stopped in front of some rows, and Harry tried to casually hide in between two racks.

“If you wanted to be discreet, you’d think you could manage to be a little less obvious.” Draco said, eyes not leaving the spines of the books he stood in front of.

Harry knew he’d been caught, and he stepped out from his hiding spot.

Draco finally looked up at him, and Harry held back a flinch. His friend—former friend? He could barely bear the thought—had eyes made of ice, and he was looking at Harry like he was a piece of rubbish on the road.

“What do you want, Potter?” Draco asked, sounding bored.

“What in Merlin is going on with you, Malfoy?” Harry blurted. He couldn’t beat around it.

“Nothing is going on.” Draco said. “What, just because I don’t want to follow you around, something must be _going on_?”

Harry huffed. “That’s not all you’ve been doing, you know,”

“Oh, enlighten me, Potter,” Draco said, crossing his arms and leaning against the rows of books. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

“You’ve been ignoring all of your friends—you didn’t write almost all summer, and now you’ve come back as—as—” Harry struggled for the words, and settled for gesturing to Draco wildly.

“As what?” Draco asked, brow raised. “As a regular wizard, who decided that maybe he wanted a change of pace? Is that a crime?”

Harry was at a loss.

“Draco,” he whispered, “why are you doing this? We’re your friends—I’m your friend.”

“Did you stop to think,” Draco spoke through gritted teeth, “that I maybe, perhaps, don’t want to be your friend anymore? I was trying to be nice, you know, refusing to write. I was hoping you would get the hint, and just let it go, Potter, but you can never _take a hint_ ,”

Harry flinched back as though he’d been hit.

“Leave me alone, Potter,” Draco said, and brushed past him, leaving Harry standing in the stacks, dumbstruck.

He made his way back to the table after a time, and sat down in his seat, feeling numb. When he lifted his gaze to the table where the three Slytherins had been before, he saw that Draco was gone.

Harry didn’t even try to hide his unhappiness for the next few days. He couldn’t eat, save for picking at pieces of toast and rolls at mealtimes. Theo had made his usual biting comments, but stopped when he realized that Harry could barely focus enough to react.

It didn’t help that Draco was only a few students away, holding court like a silver king, the people around him hanging on his every word, as he bragged and preened.

Harry broke a roll apart into a hundred little bits.

Even the morning of the first quidditch match of the year couldn’t brighten his mood.

Slytherin was going against the Gryffindor team, in the afternoon, and Harry was still so hurt inside, he didn’t have room to feel nervous.

Even walking out onto the pitch, hearing the cheering, couldn’t really break through his fog. Only when he caught sight of his parents, along with a wildly flailing Sirius, self-suffering Remus, and a joyously clapping Peter, all sitting in the Slytherin stands, and decked out in emerald and silver.

Harry let out a soft laugh, and Blaise followed his eyes.

“Is that your family?” He asked, and Harry nodded, a small smile on his face.

“They’ve all lost their minds.”

Both teams mounted their brooms, and Harry caught eyes with the Weasley twins, who jokingly mimed beating him with their bats. Harry stuck out his tongue.

Madame Hooch blew her whistle.

Harry rose quickly, glancing around for the snitch, although he knew that he wouldn’t see it this quickly in the match.

In the sky, Harry felt his mind calm, and he felt more at ease than he had in days.

That overwhelming feeling washed over him, and probably contributed to him almost getting beheaded by a bludger.

Harry heard a gasp, and registered it flying toward him just in time to narrowly avoid it hitting him square in the face.

Harry looked town toward the pitch, trying to see which Weasley had sent it hurling his way, but he was only met with two twin faces of shock.

Harry flew lower, and once again had to dodge the bludger, which was rushing toward him without being batted by a player. The Weasleys sprung to action faster than Crabbe and Goyle, hitting the bludger away from Harry, and batting the bludger to one another, trying to keep it contained.

Harry looked around, and saw a flash of gold, and took off towards it.

Harry heard more gasps, and knew the bludger had gotten free again, and Harry dodged it as he pursued the snitch, so close, yet so far away. The Gryffindor seeker was hurriedly trying to catch up, but as she got closer to the snitch—and by extension, Harry—she also had to dodge the bludger.

Harry felt his fingers close around the golden snitch a half-second before the bludger crashed into his outstretched arm.

Harry knew it was bad, that he was going to hit the ground—extremely hard, he was sure—and all he managed was to close his eyes and mentally prepare for the impact.

Somehow, his fall was cushioned, and he didn’t feel the fall, though he did feel pain, as he landed straight on his crushed right arm. Though it was limp, he could still see the snitch’s wings poking out of his fist.

So many people came rushing towards him, lying on the sand, and Harry let out a groan when he saw that Gilderoy Lockhart was at the head of the crowd.

“Oh no, not you,” Harry moaned. Lockhart ignored him.

“Don’t you worry, Harry, I am quite gifted with healing charms,” he said, his stupid smile painting his face. Harry made a noise of protest, but Lockhart barreled on. He muttered a spell that Harry had never heard of, and Harry felt his arm beginning to tingle unpleasantly, and though the pain receded, he looked at his arm and wanted to be sick. It was like his arm had deflated and lay flat on the ground. Harry let his head fall back onto the ground, a sad noise slipping from his mouth.

Bloody Lockhart.

“Get out of my way! That’s my son!”

Harry heard Lily yelling, and saw her familiar red hair appear a moment later. When she caught sight of Lockhart crouched next to Harry, and then Harry’s deflated arm, she immediately drew her wand.

“You incompetent, idiotic, son of a—”

James clapped a hand over his wife’s mouth.

“Love, there are children present,” He whispered, then went to Harry’s side, helping him up.

“Well, that’s not supposed to happen,” James said, looking pointedly at Harry’s arm.

Lockhart hadn’t mended Harry’s broken bones. He had removed them.

Madam Pomfrey had not been pleased.

“You should have come straight to me! I can mend bones in a second, but regrowing them will be much more time consuming,” she said, setting bottles onto Harry’s bedside table. Harry recognized the Skele-Gro, and let out a groan.

“You’re in for a rough night,” Pomfrey said, pouring a beakerful and handing it to him. “Regrowing bones is a nasty business.”

Harry gagged on the Skele-Gro, while Madam Pomfrey tutted, muttering about dangerous sports and inept teachers.

Ron and Hermione came to visit for a moment, bringing him a plate of lunch, which he appreciated. It helped to take away some of the lingering taste of the rancid potion.

Theo dropped by, insulted Harry for a little while, though the aim of his words seemed to be to lift Harry’s spirit. In a weird way, they succeeded.

Finally, Harry’s family dropped by, bringing sweets. They chatted for a long while, Sirius reenacting a conversation they had apparently had with Dumbledore about Lockhart’s magical ineptitude. Apparently, when there were no children present, Lily had not held back.

She stroked Harry’s hair, and winced alongside her son when she saw the pain start to show on his face. His limp arm had begun to regain feeling, slowly; his bones were regrowing, stabbing him every centimeter along the way.

Harry eventually fell asleep, and he woke quite suddenly sometime later, in pitch blackness. He let out a yelp of pain: his arm felt full of splinters. He thought for a moment that the pain had woken him, but he felt someone sponging his forehead in the dark.

“Get off!” he said loudly, then, “Dobby!”

The house-elf’s goggling tennis ball eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness. A single tear was running down his long, pointed nose.

“Harry Potter came back to school,” he whispered miserably. “Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah sir, why didn’t you heed Dobby? Why didn’t Harry Potter go back home when he couldn’t get through the barrier?”

Harry heaved himself up on his pillows and pushed Dobby’s sponge away.

“What’re you doing here?” he said. “And how did you know I couldn’t get through the barrier?”

Dobby’s lip trembled and Harry was seized by a sudden suspicion.

“It was you!” he said slowly. “You stopped the barrier from letting us through!”

“Indeed yes, sir,” said Dobby, nodding his head vigorously, ears flapping. “Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterward” — he showed Harry ten long, bandaged fingers — “but Dobby didn’t care, sir, for he thought Harry Potter was safe, and never did Dobby dream that Harry Potter would get to school anyway!”

He was rocking backward and forward, shaking his ugly head.

“Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts, he let his master’s dinner burn!”

Harry slumped back onto his pillows.

“You nearly caused Ron and I to miss getting to school,” he said fiercely. “you’d better get lose before my bones come back, Dobby, or I might strangle you.”

Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, “Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make —”

“Your Bludger?” said Harry, anger rising once more. “What do you mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me?”

“Not kill you, sir, never kill you!” said Dobby, shocked. “Dobby wants to save Harry Potter’s life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than remain here, sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home!”

“Oh, is that all?” said Harry angrily. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me why you wanted me sent home in pieces?”

“Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!” Dobby groaned, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase. “If Harry potter only knew the danger that lay within Hogwarts’ walls—”

Dobby looked panicked, and Harry knew he was looking for something to punish himself with.

“No, no, Dobby, it’s alright,” Harry said, and in his haste, he lifted his broken arm, and had to bite back a groan.

“Harry Potter must not stay at Hogwarts,” Dobby whispered, and with a snap, he disappeared.

Harry threw himself back onto his pillows.

What in Merlin was going on?

As soon as his bones had regrown, Harry begged to be released from the hospital wing.

“Please, Madam Pomfrey, I feel fine, truly,” he said, trying to look both healthy and pitiful at the same time.

She looked at him, pointy face frowning.

“Ah, well, Potter, your arm seems to have healed. Remember—be careful getting back on a broom. You don’t want a repeat of this, I’m sure.”

Harry winced, then gathered his leftover goodies, and hurried from the wing. He didn’t want to give her time to change her mind.

Harry stopped in the dungeons to drop off his things and take a shower. He tried to scrub off the sickly sterile smell from his skin, and he brushed his teeth twice, the memory of the ghastly potion still sticking in his mind. He finally made his way through corridors, trying to make it to dinner before the halls were cleared, but he was stopped by a mob of students. They were just standing in the middle of a corridor, and Harry looked around, before settling next to Theo, who was looking on with a frown. Harry followed the student’s eyes, and landed on the wall, where, in red, words were scrawled.

_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware._

“Is that blood?” Harry whispered, and Theo nodded stiffly.

“Seems like it.”

Harry noticed Hermione and Ron standing close by, and he walked toward the two. Hermione had a hand on her mouth, and Ron looked paler than usual.

“What is going on?” Ron asked in a whisper, and Harry had no answer.

“Nothing good,” Harry said finally.

It was all he was sure of.


	6. duelling clubs and petrified students

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone can thank ariana grande for this update bc positions has made me want to write and it just sparked my productivity (and jb & shawn mendes--monster re-sparked this chapter's productivity) ((also i am not even going to begin to apologize for how absolutely bonkers late i am with an update))
> 
> also i would apologize for the blatant plagiarism this time but also fuck JKR

“Hermione, have you found anything?”

“Shh,” Hermione said, holding up a finger as she scanned the pages in front of her.

Harry was overwhelmed just looking at her: she had three books in front of her, waiting to be pulled from the table and swapped out for another title. If she were anyone else, Harry would be sure they couldn’t possibly be able to function; but she looked completely, and utterly, in control.

Harry watched as her eyes moved from left to right, scanning the page, following her finger as she traced the words as she read. Watching Hermione read was a rather impressive feat, sometimes. Harry couldn’t quite believe she was real most days.

“I’ve gotten absolutely _nothing_ ,” she said, slamming a book closed, before waving her wand, and allowing the other two to flop back onto the table. “No one seems to have any concrete information. It’s rather tragic.”

“You couldn’t find _anything_?” Ron asked through a sandwich, and Hermione shot him a glare when a crumb got too close to the books on the table.

“Yes, Ronald, I couldn’t find anything.” Hermione said, stacking the books, “We’re just going to have to look elsewhere for answers.”

Hermione Granger, looking outside of books for information. Harry never thought he would see the day.

“Maybe I can ask my parents,” Harry said, “they may know something.”

“It would help if we knew who the bloody heir even was,” Ron said, chewing again.

“The heir of Slytherin, obviously, Weasley,”

Theo appeared at Harry’s shoulder, looking slightly disgusted at Ron eating.

“How do you know?” Hermione asked, as Theo sat at Harry’s other side.

“It’s an old tale, Granger, all of the purebloods learn about it.” Theo said, though Ron looked confused, so he amended. “Well, at least the ones who have been sorted in Slytherin for generations.

“The Chamber of Secrets, it’s said that Salazar Slytherin was angry with the other founders, and so he hollowed out a chamber somewhere below Hogwarts. Apparently, he put a rather dreadful monster in it, and there it stayed, until the rightful heir to the Slytherin heir came to Hogwarts to set it free.”

Theo said all of this rather calmly, for someone dictating that there was likely a dangerous beast somewhere below their feet.

“So, you’re saying that someone here, at Hogwarts, is the heir of Slytherin, and has decided to just go and open up a chamber.” Hermione repeated, and Theo glanced at her in slight annoyance.

“I quite literally just said that.”

“How do you even know it’s true? And how could the creature be down there, alive, for hundreds of years?” Harry asked, and Theo shrugged.

“Details.” He said, waving him off lazily.

“Well, if it’s true, who could it be?” Hermione asked.

Ron snorted. “I bet it’s Malfoy.”

Harry looked at him, as he bit into another sandwich. He looked to the other two on either side of him.

Hermione and Theo said nothing.

“You don’t seriously think—"

“Harry,” Hermione said quietly, “think about it.”

Harry looked to Theo, who was staring at the table, looking pensive.

“Theo, you don’t believe it, do you?”

Theo met his eyes. “I don’t know. Draco’s family is basically pureblood royalty. I mean, he’s not just a Malfoy, he’s a _Black_. I don’t know of anyone else it _could_ be.”

Harry swallowed. He was very abruptly wishing this conversation would be over.

“Harry, we don’t even know if there’s anything in that chamber. Or if it even truly exists. Maybe someone just wrote on the wall to scare everyone.”

Harry stared at the table. One could only hope.

The next morning, the Great Hall was bustling with noise, everyone chattering wildly. Most of the teacher’s table was empty, with only Professor Binns and Professor Vector seated.

When Harry made his way to the Slytherin table, he had barely taken a seat when Blaise was saying, “Did you hear? Some little firstie was found last night in a hallway. Apparently, he’s been turned to stone,”

“Blaise, that’s just stupid,” Theo interrupted, picking apart a piece of toast.

Blaise made a face, but Theo didn’t look up to see it.

“Anyways, the staff is freaking out about it. They can’t wake him up.”

“Who was it?” Harry asked, and Blaise shrugged.

“Some Gryffindor. The little one who always runs around with that stupid muggle camera. I think his name is…Creevey,” Blaise looked like he couldn’t be sure on the name, “or Creepy. At least that’s what Draco called him when he tried to take his picture.”

“He might’ve had better luck had it not been while Draco was in the loo,” Theo said, and Blaise cackled.

“When did this happen?” Harry asked, slightly annoyed that it seemed, at least this morning, everything that came out of his mouth was a question.

“A few days ago. Apparently, he’s got a bit of a hero worship problem. Draco’s been getting a lot of that recently,” Blaise answered, spearing a sausage. “Merlin knows why.”

“Anyone with an entourage tends to attract more eyes.” Theo said, glancing in Draco’s direction. The blonde was sitting at the edge of the table, holding court. Multiple students watched him in rapt attention, hanging on his every word.

Harry looked away.

“So, the teachers can’t figure out what’s wrong with the student?” Harry asked, wanting to redirect the conversation. Already, he’d had enough of Malfoy for the morning.

“He won’t wake up, no matter what they do,” Blaise said, “they’re pretty sure he’s been cursed, but they haven’t been able to undo whatever’s been done. Honestly, of all the people it could have been, at least whoever did this chose the most annoying student in all of Hogwarts,”

Harry frowned. No matter how annoying the boy may have been, he wouldn’t wish a curse on anyone—especially someone who likely did nothing to provoke an attack.

“So, no one knows anything, then?” Harry sighed.

“Nope,” Blaise said, popping the p.

Harry suffered through Potions with relative grace, luckily not having the bad luck to blow up his own cauldron.

Neville, however, was another story.

Harry couldn’t get the situation from this morning out of his mind, and more than once Theo had to smack Harry’s hand away before he absentmindedly threw the wrong ingredient into the cauldron. Mind running a mile a minute, Harry only barely noticed Snape sneering over their potion, looking for any mistakes as an excuse to dock points. He registered the professor commenting on Draco and Crabbe’s potion before a loud _boom_ sounded from the back corner.

Harry looked up and saw the contents of Justin and Neville’s cauldron covering three rows of students, including Draco Malfoy, and, horrifyingly, Snape.

Harry glanced next to him, and saw Theo watching them in glee.

Harry could only see the professor’s back, but there was an almost visible furious trembling becoming apparent. The other students were still standing in shock as they wiped furiously at the light blue goop covering them.

Honestly, Harry was surprised there was enough potion in a cauldron to cover six students and a full-grown adult.

“Longbottom,” Snape finally said, and the room silenced immediately, even the drenched students paused their wiping, not wanting to miss a single sound.

Neville stared in terror. Harry held his breath.

“Ten points from Hufflepuff.”

Class was dismissed shortly after, with all six students ushered to the medical wing. Harry heard a fuming Draco Malfoy mutter that his father would be hearing about this. Harry rolled his eyes out of habit.

Harry was in his head, once again, on the way to Defense. Ron had caught him and Theo on their way down the hall, and he was chattering on about one thing or the other. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice that Harry was definitely not listening to a single word he spoke.

There was a gleeful smile on Lockhart’s face as the students filed into the classroom that made Harry instantly wary.

“Students, I have the most remarkable news,” he began, smile somehow growing. “at the urging of your most incredible teacher—me, of course—the headmaster has approved an after-hours dueling club for you students. Led by myself.”

Sound erupted in the room, half squealing, and half groans.

“You all will have the opportunity to learn firsthand the best possible defensive spells, as well as some tips and tricks that could go a long way in making sure you all win every single duel you are in.”

Harry was mystified that Lockhart continued to smile throughout all of his words.

“These sessions will begin this evening, so please do make sure you all clear your schedules.” Lockhart clasped his hands together, “now, everyone open up my third book and turn to page 257…”

After classes ended for the day, Harry was flipping through his textbooks, trying to find a definition for his homework, at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. Theo, sitting at his side, was whispering spells, doing random transfigurations like changing his parchment color, and spelling his quill silver.

Harry was worrying his lip between his teeth, deep in concentration as he searched through the words in front of him.

“Can I help you?”

Harry looked up at Theo, startled out of focus.

Theo always sounded mildly annoyed, and almost every word out of his mouth could be considered sarcastic and sometimes cruel.

But this. This time, Theo’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

Harry leaned forward to see past Theodore’s shoulder, which was turned toward the object of his biting words.

Draco Malfoy—flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, his ever-present guardians—had returned from the hospital wing.

Draco was staring down at the various colored items on the table in front of Theo, though his eyes kept doing a quick dart back up to look at Theo’s face, and Harry’s next to him.

“Are you going to say something, or are you just going to stare forever? Because if you’ve decided on the latter, it might do you well to reconsider.” Theo added, after a few more moments of tense silence. Harry could actually feel it—the tension in the air.

“Never mind, Nott,” Draco said finally, clearing his throat. “I was just going to ask you something about homework, but it can wait.”

“When have you ever needed me for homework?” Theo questioned, “What, is hanging around these two leeching out all of your brain matter?”

Draco glared, while Crabbe and Goyle stood, their expressions unaffected. Harry thought perhaps they had not understood that they had been insulted.

“Forget it,” Draco bit out, turning around, and shoving past Crabbe and Goyle’s shoulders on his way back out of the room. The two followed after a slight delay.

Theo frowned after them.

“What in Merlin is going on?” Harry asked, and Theo just shook his head.

Harry was once again in a fog of confusion. He waded through it, through the remainder of his homework, through dinner, and through the walk to the main hall after hours to attend the dueling club. Ron and Hermione were chatting about something, but Harry couldn’t tell when either of them had appeared at his side.

He wanted to know, so desperately, what was wrong with Draco. The other boy had severely annoyed him since the start of term, even more than the usual amount, especially due to his bizarre behavior. Harry couldn’t understand what could possibly cause someone to change so much in what felt like an instant.

There was a long stage set up where the tables usually lay in the center of the hall, and the trio approached it, and stood shoulder to shoulder as students filed in from their respective places in the castle and gathered round to watch. Lockhart stood upon the stage, light shining on his head, as he smiled rather stupidly at the students below him. Snape stood slightly in the shadows, an ever-present scowl on his lips.

“Well, isn’t this just peachy,” Theo said, crossing his arms as he appeared next to Harry.

“How do you always do that?” Harry asked, and to Theo’s blank look, he elaborated, “appear out of nowhere.”

“It’s not my fault you’re oblivious most of the time,” the boy responded, and although Harry knew that wasn’t an answer, exactly, he shook his head and let it go.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, “Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

“Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works.

“Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape,” said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. “He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry — you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!”

“Wouldn’t it be good if they finished each other off?” Ron muttered in Harry’s ear.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

“As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” Lockhart told the silent crowd. “On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.”

“Pity,” Theo muttered, and Harry couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“One — two — three —”

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: “Expelliarmus!” There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Most of the Slytherins applauded, as some of the other students, including Hermione, craned their neck in worry as to Lockhart’s condition.

“Do you think he’s all right?” she squealed through her fingers.

“Who cares?” said Harry, Theo and Ron together.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

“Well, there you have it!” he said, tottering back onto the platform. “That was a Disarming Charm — as you see, I’ve lost my wand — ah, thank you, Miss Brown — yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy — however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see . . .”

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, “Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me —”

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached Harry and Ron first.

“Time to split up the dream team, I think,” he sneered. “Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. Potter —”

Snape’s eyes darted, then settled somewhere to Harry’s left. He smiled coldly.

“Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let’s see what you make of the famous Potter.”

“Face your partners!” called Lockhart, back on the platform. “And bow!”

Harry and Malfoy barely inclined their heads, not taking their eyes off each other. Harry couldn’t stand the smug, cocky, and totally unrecognizable look in the other boys’ eyes.

“Wands at the ready!” shouted Lockhart. “When I count to three, cast your charms to Disarm your opponents — only to disarm them — we don’t want any accidents — one . . . two . . . three —”

Harry swung his wand high, but Malfoy had already started on “two”: His spell hit Harry so hard he felt as though he’d been hit over the head with a saucepan. He stumbled, but everything still seemed to be working, and wasting no more time, Harry pointed his wand straight at Malfoy and, with barely a second of hesitation, shouted, “Rictusempra!”

A jet of silver light hit Malfoy in the stomach and he doubled up, wheezing.

“I said Disarm only!” Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Malfoy sank to his knees; Harry had hit him with a Tickling Charm, and he could barely move for laughing. Harry hung back, with a vague feeling it would be unsporting to bewitch Malfoy while he was on the floor, but this was a mistake; gasping for breath, Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry’s knees, choked, “Tarantallegra!” and the next second Harry’s legs began to jerk around out of his control in a kind of quickstep.

“Stop! Stop!” screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge.

“Finite Incantatem!” he shouted; Harry’s feet stopped dancing, Malfoy stopped laughing, and they were able to look up.

“I think I’d better teach you how to block unfriendly spells,” said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. “Let’s have a volunteer pair — Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you —”

“A bad idea, Professor Lockhart,” said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. “Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.” Neville’s round, pink face went pinker. “How about Malfoy and Potter?” said Snape with a twisted smile.

“Excellent idea!” said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.

“Now, Harry,” said Lockhart. “When Draco points his wand at you, you do this.”

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, “Whoops — my wand is a little overexcited —”

Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked, too. Harry looked up nervously at Lockhart and said, “Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?”

“Scared?” muttered Malfoy, so that Lockhart couldn’t hear him.

“You wish,” said Harry.

“Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. “Just do what I did, Harry!”

“What, drop my wand?”

But Lockhart wasn’t listening.

“Three — two — one — go!” he shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, “Serpensortia!”

The end of his wand exploded. Harry watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

“Don’t move, Potter,” said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. “I’ll get rid of it…”

“Allow me!” shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Harry wasn’t sure what made him do it. He wasn’t even aware of deciding to do it. All he knew was that his legs were carrying him forward as though he was on casters and that he had shouted stupidly at the snake, “Leave him alone!” And miraculously — inexplicably — the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry. Harry felt the fear drain out of him. He knew the snake wouldn’t attack anyone now, though how he knew it, he couldn’t have explained.

He looked up at Justin, grinning, expecting to see Justin looking relieved, or puzzled, or even grateful — but certainly not angry and scared.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” he shouted, and before Harry could say anything, Justin had turned and stormed out of the hall.

Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape, too, was looking at Harry in an unexpected way: It was a shrewd and calculating look, and Harry didn’t like it. He was also dimly aware of an ominous muttering all around the walls. Then he felt a tugging on the back of his robes.

“Come on,” said Ron’s voice in his ear. “Move — come _on_ —”

Ron steered him from the hall, with Hermione and Theo close on their heels. “As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something. Harry didn’t have a clue what was going on, and no one explained, or said a word until they found an empty classroom somewhere on the second floor of the castle.

Ron sat Harry on a chair, and without another moment, said, “You’re a Parselmouth. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I’m a what?” Harry asked.

“A _Parselmouth!_ ”

“I heard you just fine the first time!” Harry said exasperatedly. “That doesn’t help me all that much.”

“You can talk to snakes.” Theo said. “Parselmouths are those who can communicate with serpents. Your father is a pureblood, how are you so clueless about this?”

“I don’t know, maybe because this never _came up_!” Harry tried to control his temper, but he sort of felt as though the walls might crumble around him at any moment, and he thought that maybe his hands were shaking.

Theo’s mouth formed a straight line, and Harry could see his thoughts going even though he wasn’t speaking.

“It’s not just the speaking to snakes—Harry, this is bad, this is so, so, _incredibly_ bad,” Ron was pacing, and it did nothing to alleviate the panic.

“Harry,” Hermione said in a whisper, “what did you say to it?”

“What,” Harry asked, and Hermione looked pained.

“The snake. What did you say to the snake?”

“I told it to leave Justin alone—you guys were there, you heard me say it, you were _right there_ —”

“Harry, we didn’t hear it like that. You were speaking to it, you were _hissing_ ,” Hermione began, but she stopped, Harry assumed, in response to his face.

“How is it that I was somehow speaking another language—not even a language. How was I hissing to a random snake without knowing?” He said, throat tight.

“It’s what Parselmouths do.” Ron said.

“Harry, you know what everyone is thinking now, right?”

Harry looked away, knowing exactly what the answer to that question was.

“That I’m the heir of Slytherin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i was writing this, i realized how little detail there was in the original book in terms of like, detailed writing of classes/transition scenes/etc. so forgive me if it seems like i cut to new scenes too quickly.


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